Hello Upstead friends! I have been blown away by the support and love I've been shown regarding this fic, and I truly can't thank y'all enough. But what I can do is give y'all a surprise update to kick off your Friday :)

This is the chapter that gave me the idea for the entire fic, and without this little slice of hurt/comfort, I wouldn't have even thought to turn this into something more. I hope y'all love it!

Chapter Summary: Hailey gets injured on the job, and Jay doesn't leave her side the entire time they're at the hospital.

[Married Upstead, post-9x09]

.: Hospital Flannel :.

"Nobody does it better, oh, the way he pulls me in. I've known a couple bad ones, but they all led me to him. He's one of the good ones." — Gabby Barrett, The Good Ones

Hailey couldn't remember ever being more uncomfortable than she was right now. She knew she had been—this wasn't her first time propped up on a thin hospital mattress, covered in bruises—but she found she always forgot how annoying it was to be in the emergency room until she was back under its harsh fluorescents.

She shifted tentatively and groaned when the movement pulled on her newly stitched wounds and agitated her aching muscles. Jay tightened his grip on her hand at the noise, and the slow, steady swipe of his thumb over the back of her hand was grounding. Her attempt to give him a reassuring smile as she leaned back against the bed felt more like a grimace.

He lurched to his feet and brushed a hand over her hair, smoothing it back into place. She briefly closed her eyes at his touch and leaned into his palm, but when he pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, her eyes fluttered back open so she could look at him.

His brows had been furrowed, his eyes shadowed, since the second he'd rushed up to her in that dark warehouse and pressed his hands to the knife wound in her side, to the one on her bicep. Hailey was fine, and she was going to stay fine, but no one had been able to convince her husband of that.

"I'm okay," she repeated for the tenth time. She pulled their clasped hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to his split, reddened knuckles, trying to be reassuring when she knew nothing but time and healing would reassure him she was telling the truth.

Jay nodded, looking skeptical as he slowly retook his seat in the chair beside her bed. He'd pulled that horribly uncomfortable-looking chair as close to her bed as possible, and he leaned even closer and rested his elbows on the mattress. He kept hold of her hand, kept swiping his thumb over her skin, and he settled his other hand on her thigh.

She drew comfort from that touch. She was fine, but that didn't mean she wasn't in pain.

The offender she'd been chasing through the warehouse had jumped out at her from the shadows—all she'd seen was a flash of silver before fire had erupted in her side. He'd somehow managed to find a gap in her vest, and it had been sheer adrenaline that had kept her fighting long enough for Jay to show up and send the guy sprawling with one punch.

When Jay had immediately reached for her, she'd had to remind her husband that he was still a police officer, and he'd left the offender uncuffed and crawling away.

Two quick knocks on the sliding glass door pulled Hailey from her memory.

"Heya, Hailey," Will greeted. He held his usual tablet in one hand, but he was looking at her, and the weight of her brother-in-law's concern was almost as heavy as Jay's. "How're ya feelin'?"

"All right, all things considered," she replied with a tiny smile.

Jay rubbed his hand up and down her thigh, and he swept his thumb across her knuckles again.

"Good, good," Will said, eyes scanning the steadily beeping monitors behind her head. He clicked a few things on his tablet before he set it aside and approached. He began unhooking her from the leads. "I've already sent a prescription to the pharmacy for pain meds, so you can pick those up before you leave. Your scans were clear—everything looks good—so Maggie's got your discharge papers going. She's gonna fast-track you, get you out of here as soon as she can."

Hailey nodded, and Jay squeezed her thigh. As much as his touch soothed her, she knew he drew just as much comfort from it. Hospitals made him anxious—made him jumpy and agitated—and Will knew his brother better than most. She had a feeling those fast-tracked discharge papers were as much for Jay's benefit as they were for hers. Will dropped the cords over one of the now-silent machines and briefly pressed his hand to her shoulder before he stepped back a few paces.

"Just make sure you come back immediately if you spike a fever or if any redness develops around the wounds. You should change your bandages at least once a day—and you can always call me if you have questions. I mean it, you two."

"We will," Hailey said.

"Yeah, thanks, Will," Jay croaked.

Will nodded and left the room, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

Jay grabbed their shared go-bag from beside his chair and tossed it on the bed by her feet. Inch by inch, Hailey swung her legs off the side of the hospital bed. She kept a hand pressed to the stab wound in her side, but it did little to lessen the ache. Every minute twist of her torso pulled uncomfortably on her stitches.

Hailey took a few deep, steadying breaths, and Jay abandoned the go-bag to press another kiss to her temple and carefully pull her closer. She leaned into his embrace and settled her forehead against his chest, gripping his bicep with her uninjured arm.

"Let's go home," she whispered into the cotton of his shirt.

"Yeah," he murmured.

She leaned back, and he kissed her properly this time. He was achingly gentle, and she knew it was foolish—a childish notion from fairy tales—but she felt better when his lips left hers, like he'd kissed her wounds better.

Sometimes she didn't know what to do with his soft, loving touches. Didn't know what to do about how she felt about his soft, loving touches. She knew she had trauma, and she had worked really hard to manage her triggers and deal with the bouts of anxiety. But it scared her how badly she wanted to lean into Jay and never move, to burrow into his chest and just live there—warm and safe and loved.

"Thank you," she said, as he gently brushed a thumb over her unbruised cheek and began digging through their go-bag.

"For what?" He pulled some of her clothes from the bag—a pair of loose gray sweats and a plain green t-shirt.

Hailey blushed, feeling a little silly about thanking her husband for being kind, for a kiss. But if she couldn't push past her vulnerability for Jay—especially when she had painkillers running through her veins—then who would she do it for? And she knew Jay would cradle her feelings in his careful hands like they were made of glass.

"For being here and for making me feel better," she settled on. She toyed with the hem of his blue henley, running her thumb over the raised seam. Her blush made her feel like she was on fire, but she quietly added, "I like when you kiss me."

Jay grinned, his smile crooked and boy-ish like it only ever was for her. Maybe her embarrassment was worth it if her admission cleared some of those worried shadows from his eyes.

"Not as much as I do, Hails." He kissed her again through his smile, and it distracted her slightly from the pain when she got to her feet.

Jay had undressed her hundreds of times. Had spent hours trailing kisses over each inch of skin he revealed, making her feel more cherished than she ever had in her life. But there was a special kind of intimacy in him helping her dress, in sliding her sweats up instead of down.

After he'd smoothed the waistband, fingers brushing her skin, he helped her to the chair he'd occupied since they'd been directed to this room. She leaned on him more than she strictly needed to just because she could.

He knelt on the linoleum in front of her and reached around her back to undo the tiny bows holding her hospital gown together. She did the best she could to pull the garment down her arms herself, but her left arm felt completely useless—half from pain, half from the numb, tingling feeling left from the lidocaine.

She managed it, though, slowly, and Jay was patient enough to let her try. After the gown pooled by her waist, she eyed the t-shirt in Jay's hands with skeptical eyes; there was not even a tiny part of her that wanted to pull it over her head. Jay seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he tugged the go-bag to the floor next to her. He rummaged through it a bit but eventually shook his head.

"All you have is a pull-over sweatshirt," he mumbled. "And a long-sleeve—ah, here."

He pulled a green flannel from the bag—his green flannel—and she smiled when he shook out the folded fabric and scooted closer to her on his knees. Her thighs bracketed his torso, and she drew comfort from his warmth, his closeness.

His gaze trailed over her, and his eyes lingered on the bandage on her right side, on the one wrapped securely around her left bicep. Those shadows returned to his eyes the longer he looked, and his jaw tightened.

"Your bra is covered in blood," he eventually said, clearing his throat.

She looked down at herself. The doctors had cut away her shirt when tending to her wounds, but her bra hadn't been in the way. Jay was right. The fabric was more blood-red than violet, and when Hailey nodded, he deftly unhooked it and tossed the garment onto the bed behind him.

She probably should've felt a little exposed, a little vulnerable sitting there half-naked and in pain under the harsh hospital fluorescents, but she didn't. Not at all. And when Jay helped her into his flannel and began buttoning it up, she smiled. It felt nice to be taken care of like this. She didn't feel like an invalid, or like she should be able to push past her pain and be able to do all of this herself. She just took his actions for the love it was and basked in it.

She knew she'd be crawling the walls soon enough—bored out of her skull sitting at home or anxiously missing out at work while she was stuck at a desk doing paperwork—but for now, she let her husband pull her to her feet and press a kiss to her forehead.

She'd worry about the rest later.

Thank you for reading!